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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25979950">good boy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackeyedblonde/pseuds/blackeyedblonde'>blackeyedblonde</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AKA the four finger special, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Cock Piercing, Consenting Adults, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Short &amp; Sweet, Vaginal Fingering, one thumb short of fisting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:14:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,537</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25979950</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackeyedblonde/pseuds/blackeyedblonde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on reader request: Hank gets his dick sucked at work and Connor gets a touch more than he bargained for after they wrap up his thigh piece. There's some daddy kink afoot, but only verbally, and between consenting adults who are established and comfortable in their relationship. The rest is gravy because HankCon with tattoos is never not hot as all hell.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson/Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>177</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>good boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/minttupiirakka/gifts">minttupiirakka</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for Vee, who requested this premise way back in FEBRUARY. I couldn't manage the whole fic because I've been barely clinging to the mortal creative coil lately, but when I got bitten by a tiny inspo bug last night I knew it was time to knock this scene out before I tried to do anything else.</p><p>Cis Hank, trans Connor. I use more neutral terms like slit/hole and then dick/cock.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span><br/>“You dipshits want something from the bar or what?” Reed asks, standing in the doorway with his sunglasses already on, the fluorescents reflecting off the mirrored lenses. “Happy hour runs ‘til four.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not me,” Hank says easily, pushing back from his work table with a flourish of the rolling stool his bulk is balanced on. He snaps an ink-stained rubber glove off and doesn’t give it much more thought than that, peering down at Connor’s bare hip over the rims of his glasses. “Don’t make a fast habit of drinking when you’re on the clock.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Reed scoffs, turning on his heel and walking out. “I’m off the clock for the next hour, grandpa. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lock the door behind you,” Hank says, and Reed spits and swears under his breath the whole way to the front but they both hear the telltale jingle of keys and the click of the lock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he’s gone, Hank slips on a fresh glove and his voice turns softer again. He gets his bottle of green soap and a paper towel, gently rinsing and wiping down the inflamed area on Connor’s thigh. “Not too bloody this time, sugar,” he says after they’ve got it wrapped and taped up, missing the pleased, upward quirk of Connor’s lips. “Color looks good on you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not like you don’t already know,” Connor says, and this time Hank makes a low sound of agreement in his chest. They both sit there in each other’s quiet company for a moment, the whole shop empty and silent, and then Connor asks, roughly, “However am I going to pay you this time, Mr. Anderson?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank quirks a brow, folds inked arms across his wide chest to show off the tiger and calico koi on his forearms. Leans back on his rolling stool with his thighs spread and watches Connor down the straight bridge of his nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ve got an idea or two,” he rumbles, laughing at their little charade when Connor doesn’t even hesitate before sitting up and reaching for Hank’s belt buckle. “Oh shit, Con—</span>
  <em>
    <span>really? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s going to know?” Connor says, already unthreading both ends of Hank’s belt and diving in for the button on his pants. “God, I’ve been thinking about sucking your cock all morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank grunts out something at that, fumbling his glove off and hissing when Connor pulls his half-hard dick out into the cool air. “Be careful with your leg,” he manages to croak, even as soft, wet lips wrap around the pierced head of his cock and suck like it’s something sweet. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor, still mostly naked from the waist down except for his underwear and fresh bandage, bows low there between the spread of Hank’s thighs with the table behind him and sloppily takes Hank clear down to the back of his throat in one swallow. He doesn’t gag, doesn’t choke, but already Hank feels the wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes when he reaches to take Connor’s face in his hands. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit, baby boy,” he groans, trying not to buck as he tips his head back against the wall and breathes out like a wounded bull. “So good for your daddy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor whines at that, drawing back up and off with a spidery, glassy string of saliva connecting his bottom lip to Hank’s cockhead. His eyes are heavy-lidded, dark and dreamy, and when he reaches down and hooks a thumb in the waist of his underwear to pull them down over his freshly inked hip, Hank gets the message loud and clear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bend over my lap like a good boy,” Hank says, letting his thick cock flag in the air while he gets Connor to pivot over his thigh, hand already smoothing over his ass as his fingers trace along the wet slit below. “Damn, Con, you’re already fuckin’ soaked.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Precariously balanced now, Connor only moans and wraps his lips back around Hank’s shaft, bobbing up and down with his tongue curled just so. It’s slower and steadier than it was before, good enough to make heat coil in Hank’s gut but not so much that he can’t dip three thick fingers into Connor’s hole straight up to the last knuckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor bucks in his lap, trying to keep his ass in the air while he hums around Hank’s cock, already clenching around his partner’s fingers. Hank doesn’t waste time with dallying and crooks his hand just-so, pressing his fingertips up into that tender spot that makes Connor scream if he plays his cards right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reed could walk back in here right now, see you bent over like a whore,” Hank grunts, teasing around Connor’s asshole with his thumb while his fingers plunge deeper, faster, making an obscene sound in the narrow privacy room. “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Letting him see that you’re only a little cock slut for your daddy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, Hank—please,” Connor chokes when he draws off long enough to suck in a wet breath, curls falling limply over his forehead. Hank adds a fourth finger like it’s nothing, stretching Connor tight around his hand, and gets a muffled wail for his efforts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” he growls, fucking back into Connor’s hole with a rough movement.”Who am I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, </span>
  <em>
    <span>daddy!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Connor gasps, and then Hank feels it when he comes just like that, the fluttering clench of muscle and the way Connor mewls and tries to hump his way through it, fucking himself back on rough fingers that can’t be milked for more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank smiles, face and chest hot because he loves him—loves Connor more than he loves his next breath, loves how he can make him cum like this with just his hand and some sweet talk, but they’ve still got other business to finish first before he goes off getting sentimental.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not done yet, boy,” he rasps, withdrawing his slick hand to press meaningfully against Connor’s swollen dick, getting another tiny buck and hoarse swear for his efforts. “It ain’t gonna suck itself, y’know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wet lips immediately wrap back around Hank’s rosy glans, the deft muscle of Connor’s sinful tongue swirling around the metal bar piercing through it. Later, when this room has been sterilized within an inch of its life and they’re back home again, Hank will fist his cock all the way in Connor’s slick hole and Connor will swear he can feel that hot pinch of metal deep enough inside him to burn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But for now, Hank’s gotten too close to the edge to think much, and he has to bite into his lower lip when Connor’s fingers reach down to stroke him and squeeze his tightened balls. Won’t be long, now, and as soon as Connor puts his elbow into it and jerks upward with each swipe of his tongue Hank feels his climax wring out of him all at once like his soul pulled straight through his dick, made apparent by the hot load he shoots down Connor’s throat when he opens wide to take it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at the mess you’ve made,” Connor rasps with a pleased little shiver, pulling off with a nasty sound before Hank’s even finished coming, letting that last weak spurt of pearly spend dribble down over his fist so he can lick it up like it’s nothing more than melted ice cream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look who’s talking, baby,” Hank groans, indulging himself in a lingering glance at Connor’s wet, puffy slit before his partner slowly draws himself up, affording Hank a familiar glimpse of the delicate tattoos on his groin before the elastic band of his briefs snaps back into place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Five stars on Yelp,” Connor quips, disheveled and debauched but already grinning brightly as he slides back into Hank’s lap. “Best in the tri-state area. Oh, and I guess you’re pretty good at tattoos, too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only for you,” Hank murmurs, letting Connor kiss him full on the mouth so they both share the musky taste of his own release, filthy and hot. It takes a minute to get his limp dick tucked back in his pants, but the lunch hour isn’t even halfway over and they don’t need to rush. That is, until they hear keys jingling in the lock again, and the door swings back open to let Reed and his bag of food inside the shop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank stiffens, but Connor only leans close to whisper against his ear. “I want you to fuck me raw, later,” he says, a guarantee more than a request, and then stands up and casually reaches for his pants draped over the back of the nearby chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell have you two been up to?” Reed says, walking by with a tray of mozzarella sticks brought halfway to his mouth, but he’s clearly not interested in a real answer. “Smells like a wrestling mat in here, for fuck’s sake. We need to crack open the fucking window.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank lets out a low breath, looks up to catch Connor’s eye, and slowly sucks his first two fingers clean, taking them down far enough that his lips touch the faded ink on the back of each knuckle. </span>
</p><p> </p>
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